


The Point of Sulking

by fearfully_beautifully_made



Series: Better Than I Know Myself [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearfully_beautifully_made/pseuds/fearfully_beautifully_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock comes home in a strop from The Yard and John believes he knows just how to relax his mopey love.  In other words, he'd planned on a bit of sofa sex but somehow (as always where Sherlock is concerned, there was an element of the unexpected) it turned into a spanking and sex.</p><p>This is just a light-hearted PWP I wrote while I've been working on heavier fics.</p><p>This is the third installment of the Better than I Know Myself series but you can read this as a stand alone without any problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings!
> 
> First, I must thank my lovely friend dreamsindigita1 without whom this series might never have gotten off the ground or even been written in the first place.
> 
> Secondly, I don't own these lovely characters and I make no profit from these works.
> 
> Again, dear readers, I must apologize for how terrible I am at coming up with summaries and titles (in my writing folder all of my works are literally saved as "The _________ One." and I fear it is the most challenging thing about creating a work for me.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one (it was a fun one to write!) As ever, comments and concrit are welcomed and appreciated.
> 
> Blessings!

_ John _

When John arrived back home from the clinic the flat was quiet which could mean one of two things.  First, it could mean Sherlock had already come back from the Yard where he’d gone this morning to help Lestrade with cold cases and was currently in his mind palace.  (This option seemed unlikely, as most often when Sherlock came home from working on cold cases he spent an hour ranting at John about the Met’s incompetence.)  The second option was that Sherlock hadn’t returned from the Yard yet.

John did a quick sweep of the flat, checking the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom before deciding that it was the second option and not the first.  If he’d been at The Yard this long, he was sure to be in a strop when he got home.  John grinned to himself, he had learned long ago how to deal with Sherlock in a strop.  

He went to their bedroom and pulled off the button up and cardigan he’d been wearing along with his trousers.  John dug around in the dresser for a few moments before he found the blue cashmere jumper Sherlock had bought for him last Christmas and a pair of worn-out blue jeans.  These may not look like anything sexy to the casual observer but John knew Sherlock and on days like today when Sherlock was mopey and stropy he subconsciously loved John in soft clothes.

This was a tricky thing to balance with Sherlock.  He was so easily bored by monotony but at the same time there were certain things that prompted very specific reactions from him.  This worked in both positive and negative ways, but John had learned many of the positive ways before he and Sherlock had even started sleeping together.  And it just so happened that one of the things that made Sherlock settled and calm was when John looked comfortable.  It had been the case for as long as John could remember; when he was wearing denims and a jumper, or pajamas, or even a bathrobe Sherlock was calmer than he was when John was dressed to leave the flat.  (Well, calmer was all relative as far as Sherlock was concerned, but that’s neither here nor there.)    

John procured a few supplies before heading out the the living room and tucking them into the sofa where he’d be able to find them later.  Then John sat down on the sofa and turned on the telly; all that was left to do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Sherlock _

Sherlock stomped up the stairs into the flat, completely exasperated by the lack of understanding and deductive capabilities possessed by the Detectives who worked for the Met.  How any of them accomplished anything was far beyond him.

“John!” Sherlock bellowed as he entered the flat, hanging up his coat and toeing off his shoes by the door.

“Living room.” John called back.  He sounded relaxed and calm and Sherlock gravitated toward that center the way a moth was drawn to a light.  He trudged into the living room to find John sitting on the sofa, wearing one of the soft cashmere jumpers (a deep blue one which brought out the color of his eyes) that Sherlock had bought for him last Christmas and a pair of old faded blue jeans.  His hair was a little mussed and he looked as though he might have dozed off before Sherlock got back.  It was ridiculous and sentimental but Sherlock was filled with warmth at the sight of him, he looked like home.

Sherlock proceeded to the sofa and flopped down on it and subsequently John, laying his head and neck across John’s thighs.  

John hummed at him and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.  One of the lovely things about John was that he was very tactile and whatever part of Sherlock was near him would inevitably get rubbed and petted.  “How was the Yard today?”

“Dull.  Their incompetence knows no bounds, John.”  Sherlock sighed and John’s hand slipped down the back of Sherlock’s shirt to massage at the tense muscles in his neck.  “Not a case above a 3 in the lot of them.  And the ones that I couldn’t solve only couldn’t be solved because the idiot writing crime scene notes didn’t do an adequate job making observations and writing things down whilst there.  If I weren’t so dreadfully bored I wouldn’t have gone in today at all; cold cases are abysmal.”

John hummed sympathetically and continued to rub Sherlock’s back through the fabric of his shirt, relaxing the tension out of Sherlock’s shoulders and upper back.  “Well, I’m sure Greg appreciated your help.”

“Obviously.” Sherlock said with a snort, squirming on the sofa so his chest and abdomen were laid across John’s lap so John could reach lower.  

John tucked a pillow under Sherlock’s head and continued to rub his lower back with his left hand and run his fingers through Sherlock’s curls with his right.  Sherlock was often impressed with John’s ability to separate the actions of his hands, although he supposed that was a perk of dating a doctor.

Sherlock turned his face in toward John, inhaling the scent of his detergent and body wash, the slight antiseptic smell that lingered from his day at the clinic, the clean scent of his deodorant, and whatever it was that smelled uniquely like John.  He relaxed into John’s soothing motions, his body feeling loose and light; the sensations were almost that which taking drugs produced, really.  

Eventually John’s hand started to slip lower and lower until his fingers brushed over the tops of Sherlock’s buttocks.  Rubbing at him smoothly through his trousers just enough to set his nerve endings alight with sensation and start a pit of fire burning in his belly.

“John.” Sherlock groaned when John rubbed down lower, cupping Sherlock’s buttocks in his palm.  

“Yes?” John asked innocently.

“Please.” Sherlock whined.

John chuckled a bit and maneuvered Sherlock’s body so he could unbutton and unzip Sherlock’s trousers and work them down his thighs, Sherlock was glad he hadn’t worn any pants that day.  “Lazy sod.” John grumbled good naturedly when he finally got Sherlock’s trousers off.  He rubbed his hand over the globes of Sherlock’s buttocks and Sherlock felt himself flush at being half bare with his naked arse on display.

“Mmm.” John hummed approvingly, “So beautiful.  Can you scootch up just a touch more, love?”

Sherlock squirmed and obeyed, positioning himself so his hips were dead center over John’s lap.  His hips were angled so his arse jutted up in the air, putting him even more on display for John’s gaze.  

“Perfect.” John murmured and began running his fingers feather-light over Sherlock’s pale flesh.  Eventually John moved his fingers teasingly along the seam between Sherlock’s buttocks.  He’d let his fingers dip lazily into Sherlock’s crack but never far enough to touch anything Sherlock was nearly desperate to have touched.  John continued this torture, running his fingers lightly along Sherlock’s flesh until Sherlock’s cock was hard and twitching against the open air.  

“John.” he groaned, spreading his thighs a bit as John brushed his fingers along the sensitive flesh between his buttocks once more.  

“Yes, love?” John asked, Sherlock could hear a smile in his voice.

“Please.” Sherlock whimpered, wiggling his bum at John in hopes of enticing him to put his fingers in a position that might afford Sherlock some relief.

“Always so impatient.” John scolded, Sherlock pressed his bum back against John’s hand again when his fingers had traveled closer to his entrance in an effort to get John to breech him.  The hand moved away entirely before John brought his hand down on Sherlock’s arse with a resounding slap.

Sherlock gasped as his hips bucked forward with the impact.  He dropped his head forward and groaned, “Yessss.” he hissed.

John ran his fingers feather light over the spot he’d just smacked on Sherlock’s arse.  “Beautiful.” John breathed, tracing over what Sherlock could only guess was a handprint.

“John.” Sherlock gasped, “Please.”

“Please what, love?” John asked sounding a bit befuddled by the request.

Sherlock pressed his bum into John’s hand again and whined.  He couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t ask to be taken over John’s knee and spanked like a naughty child.  He couldn’t ask for it but oh, his mind could think it.  He felt precome dribble out of the head of his cock at the mere thought of it and whimpered in spite of himself.

“Would you like me to spank you, Sherlock?” John asked, his voice dark and dangerous, completely in control of the situation and of himself.  

Sherlock shuddered, he knew that tone, he  _ loved  _ that tone.  He let out a moan and nodded.

John rubbed his hand over Sherlock’s arse, “Same rules apply as when I tied you to the bed.  If you want to stop, you say the word and we stop.  No questions asked, yes?’

“Yes.” Sherlock whispered.

“Arms up above your head.” John said.

Sherlock obeyed, his shirt dragging across his nipples and bringing them fully erect as he did so.  The position drew his shirt up further, exposing some skin on his back as well; John ran his fingers over it lightly, then his right hand moved higher to pin Sherlock’s upper body to the sofa, subsequently rubbing the sensitive nubs of his nipples more firmly against the couch.  Sherlock gasped at the pressure and his body shuddered.  A moment later, John’s left drew back and away before he spanked Sherlock’s left buttock.

Sherlock gasped softly and John paused for a moment to run his fingers over that spot, “Still okay?” he asked.

Sherlock nodded once more.  John’s hand drew back and he smacked a different part of Sherlock’s arse.  He peppered slaps all along the rounded crown of Sherlock’s bottom, avoiding the sensitive skin at the crease of his thighs and avoiding hitting the same places twice.   

Each slap started out feeling merely like an impact before the stinging took over and it dissipated into a dull, throbbing ache.  Then it happened all over again, building on itself until his entire bum was suffused in heat and positively throbbing.

John’s slaps produced another reaction aside from the obvious; the force caused Sherlock’s body to rock with the motion of the smacks, dragging his cock along the soft, worn fabric of the leather sofa and making his aching prick even harder.  His cock was leaking copious amounts of precome and his foreskin had drawn back entirely by this point, exposing the sensitive flesh and allowing it to slide smoothly against the sofa.  The flesh of his arse felt like is was on fire, the pain was an exquisite counterpoint to the pleasure and every blow pushed Sherlock higher.   


After a dozen John stopped, Sherlock was panting and whimpering slightly.  John ran his hand over the hot flesh of Sherlock’s buttocks, stroking across the skin lightly.  “Fuck, you’re stunning.” John murmured.  “The color your skin turns under my palms, Sherlock.  You have a fantastic arse.”

John continued stroking his fingers teasingly along Sherlock’s flesh, causing Sherlock to shudder, his body unable to decide whether to register the movement as pain or pleasure.  John brushed his fingers along the seam of Sherlock’s arse, pausing just for a moment over his hole.  “Mmmh.” John groaned out.  “I just adore this lovely little hole.”  He lightly traced his index finger around the puckered flesh, “It’s so beautiful, so  _ tight _ .”

His hand moved away and Sherlock heard him digging around in the sofa and a moment later lube was being dribbled down the crack of his arse straight from the bottle.  Sherlock shivered at the cold fluid, a shocking contrast to the overheated flesh of his buttocks; his cock twitched as the head dragged across the sofa.  

“So beautiful.  Your cheeks are so red, Sherlock.  And if I look carefully I can make out my handprints.” John murmured, before finally smoothing his fingers along the flesh between Sherlock’s buttocks and coming to rest on his anus.  His entrance twitched against John’s finger and John hummed as he slowly pushed his forefinger in up to the first knuckle.

“That’s it.” he murmured encouragingly, groaning as Sherlock contracted around his finger before relaxing.  “Fuck.  You're always so tight, Sherlock.”  He began to leisurely thrust his finger in and out, “I can never get enough of your sweet little hole, sucking me in deeper and deeper, your body simply begging me to fuck you.”  

John pulled his finger out and Sherlock whined, thrusting his hips back toward John in search of his finger once more.  John slapped his bum again, the layered sensation of the stinging pain of the fresh slap over the warmth and familiarity of the ache in his buttocks had Sherlock writhing on John’s lap.  

“Be still.” John said firmly.  Panting, and with great effort, Sherlock did as he was told.  “That’s my good boy.” John murmured, using his thumb and index finger to spread Sherlock’s buttocks wide and gaze his fill at Sherlock’s hole.   

Whenever John opened Sherlock up like this Sherlock was completely overwhelmed by the vulnerability and by how very exposed he felt.  It always felt elicit and spectacular at the same time and it made his breath come quicker.  He fought to control his hips so he didn’t rut against the sofa to completion under John’s hungry gaze.

“I should lay you out like this more often.” John said contemplatively, “That way I can watch as your tight little hole stretches wider and wider around my fingers.  I can watch while I get you slick and wet, ready for me to slide my thick cock into you.”  John rocked a finger back into Sherlock’s entrance and Sherlock practically sobbed.     


A moment later John was pressing in a second finger and rocking both fingers in and out before scissoring them in Sherlock’s hole.  “Look at you.” John murmured.  “You’re incredible.  You wouldn’t believe how fantastic your pretty little hole looks right now, red and glistening, stretched around my fingers.  Just imagine how much prettier you’ll look stretched around my cock.”

Sherlock moaned and his hips bucked against the sofa, dragging the tip of his cock mere centimeters along the fabric and sending electricity coursing up into his balls.  

A moment later John was removing his fingers again, Sherlock keened at the loss.  

“Hush.” John said, “I have something for you.  Something you’re going to like.”  Then Sherlock felt the blunt head of a plug being gently worked into his hole.  He squirmed and moaned as John worked it in.  “That’s it, baby.  So perfect.  Take it all, take it for me.” John encouraged.  “Just relax.” he murmured and the plug slipped all the way in, curving so it brushed Sherlock’s prostate.

Sherlock couldn’t even form words at the moment, he was so strung out on the mixture of pain and pleasure.  His cock was rigid and his balls were drawn up tight to his body and he could merely groan and shudder, his hips rocking against the sofa, desperate for some sort of friction against his hard, aching flesh. 

“I told you to stop moving, didn’t I?” John asked his right hand moving to pin Sherlock more firmly against his lap.

Sherlock groaned at the sensation of being held still, being trapped and being completely at John’s mercy. “Yes.” he moaned.

John’s hand rained down another five smacks across Sherlock’s buttocks, and Sherlock felt his hole clenching around the toy inside as it shifted with John’s motions.  Then John was spreading the crack of Sherlock’s arse once more and his hand was slapping lightly at the flesh he’d just exposed.  

The skin between his buttocks was so sensitive, Sherlock keened and he felt his hole rhythmically contracting around the plug and his balls drew up even tighter to his body and started throbbing, a sure sign that his orgasm wasn't far off.

“John.” Sherlock moaned, “Ahhh.  I’m going to..." John smacked right across the plug, pressing it further into Sherlock's arse.  "John!” Sherlock cried out as he lost the battle against orgasming.  He laid across John’s lap shuddering as his cock emptied itself on the sofa.

When he started coming John took hold of the base of the plug and was rocked it against Sherlock’s prostate as he came, milking him dry.  “That’s it.” he murmured.  “Good boy.  So beautiful.”

His right hand stroked along Sherlock’s back soothingly and when Sherlock started to feel over sensitive, John took his left hand away from the plug; he left it firmly in place but it was no longer brushing against his prostate.

John let Sherlock rest for a few minutes, stroking his hair and murmuring sweet things to him.  “Sherlock,” John began softly, “We have to move, love.  I need to get your come cleaned up off the sofa and we need to rub some lotion on your bum or you’re going to be pretty sore tomorrow.”

“I’m never moving again.” Sherlock mumbled, his face still buried in the pillow but he started to roll a bit.

John chuckled and supported him up into a sitting position, Sherlock hissed as his sensitive skin touched the sofa.  “Yeah.” John murmured and he pulled Sherlock up off the sofa.  “I imagine that probably stings a bit, go lay out on the bed.  I’ll be right in.” he pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock floated off to his room, high as a kite on endorphins, to lie down and wait for John.


	3. Chapter 3

_ John _

John efficiently cleaned up the mess on the sofa, he’d been prepared for that; had planned and orchestrated it really, so cleanup was easy.  

The spanking, on the other hand, he’d not planned so that left him digging around in medicine cabinet trying to find the lotion with aloe he’d purchased a few months back when Sherlock had gotten a sunburn on a case.  Finally he found it and carried it victoriously into their bedroom where he found Sherlock sprawled out face down on the bed, naked as the day he was born.  

Their curtains were open and letting light stream in and paint Sherlock’s body in the warmth and sunlight, the light caught in his curls and brought out the hints of auburn.  His skin practically glowed, making him looked ethereal.  He looked positively stunning, like an angel in a painting come to life lying in his bed.

“If you’re quite through waxing poetic in your head about my naked form, I believe there was something you had planned to do.”

John snorted and crossed the room.  He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s spine simply because he could before opening the bottle of lotion and rubbing it soothingly over Sherlock’s bottom.  He kept the touch clinical and professional, getting diverted now wouldn’t do Sherlock any favors tomorrow.  

Sherlock sighed at the contact and relaxed into the bed.  When John was done, Sherlock rolled over and faced John.  John couldn’t help noticing that Sherlock’s cock had perked up in interest once more.   “You’re insatiable.” John chuckled.

“I believe I was promised that I was going to be fucked, was I not?  Your exact words, if I recall correctly, and I usually do, were: ‘Just imagine how much prettier you’ll look stretched around my cock.’”    

John hummed and rubbed his hand over Sherlock’s side, smoothing his fingers up his ribcage until he reached one of Sherlock’s nipples.  He rolled it between his fingers and Sherlock gasped and arched into his touch, “I suppose I did say that, didn’t I?  And you’ve left the curtains open just so I can see, haven’t you?” Sherlock nodded.  “Clever, as always.” John murmured, leaning down to press his lips to Sherlock’s.  He smoothed his tongue along the seam of his lips; Sherlock granted him access and John licked into his mouth, sliding his tongue along Sherlock’s and swallowing his soft whimpers and moans as John continued to toy with his nipples.  

When he had Sherlock panting and writhing sufficiently, he pulled back “On your knees, love.” he said softly.

Sherlock moaned as he rolled over and presented his arse to John once more.  John rubbed his hands over the globes of Sherlock’s arse, listening to Sherlock’s soft mewling noises.  He imagined Sherlock was still a little sore, he probably would be for at least another hour or so; it hadn’t been a hard spanking to be sure, but his bottom had been bright red and suffused with heat by the time John had finished with him.  

John ran his index finger up the crease between his buttock and circled the plug still in Sherlock’s hole.  Sherlock groaned and leaned his head forward to rest on his forearms.  John pulled the plug out gently and watched as Sherlock’s hole gaped for a moment before closing itself once more.  He reached into the drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube and warmed it up between his fingers before pressing his index and middle finger into Sherlock’s body.  John groaned as Sherlock’s hole clenched and relaxed against the intrusion.  “That’s it.” John encouraged, “You’re marvelous.” he pressed kisses to Sherlock’s back and shoulders as he continued thrusting and opening him up.  “You’re so incredibly tight, Sherlock.” John growled.  

When he’d stretched Sherlock far enough, John added a bit more lube and pressed in a third finger.  Sherlock keened and pressed himself back onto John’s fingers, desperately searching for some friction.  John held his fingers still and let Sherlock fuck himself for a few moments.  He watched as his fingers disappeared in and out of Sherlock’s body with growing arousal.  “Fuck.  You should see the way your hole is stretched around my fingers Sherlock, it’s stunning.”

“John.” Sherlock moaned, “Please fuck me.”

“Oh, I will, love.”  John soothed, stilling Sherlock’s hips with his right hand and leisurely thrusting his fingers into Sherlock’s body, watching as Sherlock’s hole stretched further around his fingers to allow John to sink in all the way up to the third knuckle.

When Sherlock was sobbing and gasping for breath and John’s own cock was aching with need he removed his fingers and undressed quickly, watching Sherlock squirm as he waited in anticipation for John to press his cock inside of him.  He climbed up onto the bed behind Sherlock, nipping at his right buttock before moving forward and pressing kisses to Sherlock’s spine.  

He slicked up his cock and rubbed the head around Sherlock’s puckered entrance.  Sherlock whimpered and his hips stuttered back toward John.  “Is this what you want, darling?” he asked.  “Do you need my cock pressing into your lovely little hole?”

“Yes.” Sherlock practically sobbed.

John pressed kisses to Sherlock's shoulders to soothe him before spreading Sherlock’s buttocks wide with his right hand and using his other to guide his cock into Sherlock’s puckered entrance.  Sherlock groaned and spread his legs further in an effort to open himself to John’s gaze.  John knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted to today so he sunk into Sherlock’s body as slowly as he possibly could.  Once he was fully seated he ran his index finger along the place where their bodies were joined and said reverently, “You wouldn’t believe how incredible you look, your tiny hole stretched so wide around my cock.”  

Sherlock moaned, he was rocking his hips minutely back and forth unconsciously trying to get John to fuck him.  “John, please.” he begged.

John took pity on him and circled his hips a few times before pulling out and thrusting back in.

“Yes!” Sherlock cried out as John angled his thrusts to brush against that bundle of nerves that would send pleasure coursing through Sherlock’s body.

John continued to thrust into Sherlock steadily for a few minutes before reaching around and stroking his cock in time with his thrusts.  Sherlock moaned and his body started shuddering and he rocked himself between John’s cock and his fist.  “That’s it.” John encouraged, adding a twist at the end of each stroke.

John could feel his orgasm building low in the pit of his stomach and he began thrusting harder and stroking Sherlock’s cock faster determined to get Sherlock to come before he did.  Sherlock cried out and his entire body went rigid against John before his cock twitched in John’s grasp and he was gasping as he came.  His body clamped down around John’s prick and John groaned following Sherlock over the edge and spilling his release into Sherlock’s body mere seconds later.

He pulled out of Sherlock and flopped down on the bed, panting.  Sherlock curled into his side, resting his cheek on John’s chest and John couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head.

“That was fantastic.” Sherlock said, still a bit out of breath.

John ran his finger’s up and down Sherlock’s back, “It was.” he affirmed.

Sherlock yawned and stretched, “Definitely worth a bit of a sulk coming back from cold cases.”

John laughed, “Was the sulk just so we would have sex?”

Sherlock hummed, “Pretty much."he admitted.  "You can never resist cheering me up.” he added cheekily.

John snorted, “Sulks really aren’t necessary, I’m pretty much a sure thing, you daft sod.” 

Sherlock tipped his head up, grinning at him.  John couldn't resist the responding grin curling up the corners of his own mouth.  He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips, “I love you, you idiot.”

Sherlock hummed and kissed John again and even though he never said the words out loud, he said them with his entire being and that was more than enough for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this one, darlings. I hope you enjoyed it! <3


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